


will find you out

by janed



Series: sea change universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys in Skirts, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Vague Roleplay Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-13
Updated: 2006-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janed/pseuds/janed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron hates fancy dress parties. For reals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	will find you out

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal. Written for **kilted**. This is set in the same universe as sea change, so there are some details to do with that scattered around, but you don't have to have read that story to read this one. Both stories can stand alone.

"Please, just come on, this is ridiculous." Draco whinged through the door for the five-hundredth time.

"Fuck _off_ , I've told you I'm not coming out." Ron sneered back, scowling at his reflection and wishing for death. Not his own, mind, just Draco's. Because, oh, he was going to have to die for this. Of all the things Ron had been tempted to kill him over, this was definitely the worst and most grievously begging for death.

"Stop being a twat and just come _on_." There was a sound like Draco was thumping his forehead on the door, a thought which Ron found quite pleasing and, really, could only be _more pleasing_ with something like a large, rust-covered nail involved as well. "I've got to get in there or we're going to be late."

 _Fuck late_ , Ron thought but didn't say as he didn't see much point in bothering to reply to a sadistic wanker bastard.

Bollocks.

Absolute fucking _bollocks_ , that's what fancy dress parties were.

A completely _stupid_ concept only even considered by completely _stupid_ people. He was never speaking to Ginny _again_. Fuck, she'd be lucky if he didn't kill her as well.

"Just come out, all right? It can't be that bad."

Not that bad? Not that...

" _Bugger off_." He spat out, turning around to face the door and crossing his arms over his chest. "Also, I'm not speaking to you. I asked you -- specifically _asked you_ \-- to pick up the bloody costume at the bloody shop for me and this -- _this_ \-- is what you bring back? Oh, I knew you were still pissed off about me letting Mum throw out your disgusting dead plant--"

"It was not dead, it was supposed to look like that! And Longbottom was going to pay a fucking fortune for it!"

"-- but this is just really beyond the fucking pale. Even for you."

Draco made a disgusted noise and thumped at the door again. "Look, I've already told you, that was what they had on hold for you."

"A likely story!"

"Oh, would you shut up?" Draco snapped. "You're being a _child_ , just come on. What's the big deal? It's just a fucking skirt."

"Just a fucking skirt? _Just a fucking skirt!_ " He flailed his hands at the door wishing for the first time since he'd looked at himself in the mirror and almost _yelped in horror_ that there _wasn't_ actually a door between. Because it would be quite satisfying to put the uncontrollable flailing to good use and "accidentally" thwack Draco right across the forehead. "It's a fucking _schoolgirl's_ uniform complete with sparkly _hair bow_ and _knickers_ , for fuck's sake!"

There was a long moment of silence and Ron thought _that's right, tosser_ and _now you understand, don't you?_ and then there was a noise that sounded suspiciously like Draco breathing out hard before saying, "You're wearing knickers?"

Ron growled, that was the only word for the sound he made, and lunged for the doorknob, fingers scrambling for the lock as his side slammed against the door. There was a yelp from the other side like Draco'd banged his head against the door in shock and when Ron finally managed to fling the door open and saw Draco clutching his forehead with one hand, he couldn't help but the vicious _HA_ that burst out of his mouth.

"Yes!" He shouted, gripping the plain, grey skirt with both hands and _waving it at him_ as Draco's mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. "Yes, I put on the fucking knickers. And now I am taking them and the rest of this _fucking hideous_ costume _off_!"

He stormed into the bedroom, pulling at the uniform tie and deliberately slamming into Draco's shoulder as he went. He kicked off one stupid, shiny, _girly_ shoe, gritting his teeth as it slammed into the wall with a bang, and then then other. Things like _fucking wanker_ and _look like an arsehole_ and _ought to kill you_ spitting out of his mouth. He was so focused on getting undressed, getting _normal_ man clothes back on, and maybe busting a few holes in the wall, that he didn't even notice Draco come in behind him. Though he should have _known_ \-- he'd known the git long enough, he should have known Draco'd never miss an opportunity to poke a little fun.

"Ron." Draco said, his voice low and quiet. Ron ignored him, too busy jerkily yanking the jumper over his head and unbuttoning the top two buttons on the shirt. " _Ron_."

"What?" He ground out as he whipped around to glare, his knee-sock-clad feet nearly slipping out from under him on the wood floor as he went. "Take your _best shot_."

And Draco did. But not exactly in the way Ron had meant. Because he'd meant more along the lines of Draco smirking and making some rude remark and not really anything at all along the lines of Draco taking the two steps between them and gripping the sides of his face with both hands as he kissed him flat on the mouth.

Ron grunted in surprise as Draco shoved him backward against the dresser, his mouth bruising and frantic against Ron's as he pressed their bodies together flush. Grinding against him until he gasped and had to yank his face away as Draco's hands slipped from his cheeks and down to settle on his hips.

"What the h--"

"Shut up." Draco said, his eyes wide as he stared down their bodies, watching his own trouser-clad hips rubbing up against Ron's skirt-clad ones. His hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of the skirt as he made a sound low in the back of his throat. " _Christ_."

Ron couldn't even blink before Draco's mouth was nudging at his again, his tongue slipping past Ron's lips, bumping against his teeth and sliding against his own tongue, desperate and deep, like they'd never even fucking _kissed_ before, like Ron was about to _disappear_ or something. Ron's eyes closed automatically when Draco sucked at his tongue, his knees buckling, until Draco's body and his own white-knuckled hands against the dresser were the only thing keeping him standing. Until losing any train of thought not directly related to his mouth and Draco's furiously mashing together was the only choice left available to him.

Draco pulled back finally, his breath heaving from lack of oxygen and lust as he bit at Ron's lip, his tongue soothing the quick sting almost before Ron's brain had registered it. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, rolling his hips against Draco's, as Draco pressed hard kisses against the side of his mouth and across his cheek to his jaw. Draco licked a hot stripe over his skin, making him shudder and tilt his head further to the side and then shudder again as the lick turned to a hard suck at the spot just under his ear.

" _Can't believe..._ " Draco breathed hotly against his skin as he seemed to go almost boneless all of a sudden, leaning into Ron hard and dragging his mouth up to Ron's ear. "God, _Ron_."

Ron's breath hissed out between his teeth as Draco's teeth caught his earlobe and then almost sucked back _in_ the same way as Draco's hands tugged and yanked at his skirt, pulling it up over his freckled thighs just enough to get his hands underneath.

He gasped at the first touch -- thin, baby soft cotton rubbing against his cock like nothing else ever had as Draco squeezed him. Draco made a sound like a cross between a moan and a sob against his ear, the words _oh, god_ sending a brighthot burst of lust right to Ron's stomach. He couldn't even breathe, couldn't even think, his brain having fucked off and abandoned him somewhere around the kiss or maybe just the touching or maybe the complete confusion surrounding _all of it_. It was like his entire world had gone from being this red-hazed cloud of rage and hate to suddenly narrowed to nothing but want, need, in less than the time it had taken him to figure out how to get the blasted zip of the skirt done when it was meant to go _behind_ him.

Little gasping groans escaped his throat as his hips jerked back and forward, Draco mouthing wetly at his ear and rubbing at his cock making them fluid and him unable to keep from still even as the dresser rocked dangerously with the motion. Draco's collection of colognes and nancy-scented hair potions that he never actually used but refused to get rid of rattled together and Ron knew that if they weren't careful their entire bedroom was going to be smelling like musk and sandalwood and fucking _vanilla bean_ for weeks. But he couldn't be arsed to care. Because caring would require him to stop it and stopping it would require him to get Draco to stop touching him and he'd rather pour the disgusting rot on the bed _himself_ than ever allow that to happen.

But then it did. With a shift and a press, Draco's mouth was gone from his skin and, worse, Draco's hand was off his cock, and Ron had just enough time to think _no, wha--_ before Draco's knees hit the floor. Draco's fingers pulled at the band of Ron's knickers, yanking it down and freeing his cock, as he leaned in and practically fucking swallowed him whole in one rush of wet lips and hollowed cheeks.

" _Fuck_." He gasped, letting his head fall back as his hips pressed forward, groaning loud as one of Draco's hands held his skirt up and the other slipped between his legs to work his balls.

Draco was always a fucking fantastic cocksucker, they'd spent enough time figuring it out together that they both were, but it seemed like he was giving an especially good go of it. Pulling out all the tricks he knew to get Ron off quick. Tonguing at all the sweet spots that made his breath catch in his throat and his hips buck and twist, sucking just how and when to get Ron's knees to buckle as he gasped and swore a streak so blue even Mad-Eye Moody would've blushed.

His face was hot, burning, and he couldn't see straight, could only feel. Feel the hard edge of the dresser pressing against his arse, trapping his skirt against the backs of his thighs. Feel his knickers twisted down into a thin line just under his cock, Draco's hand between his legs, sweaty palm rubbing at Ron's balls as his fingers pushed and pressed just behind. Feel his fingers going numb, nails digging into the fine wood of the dresser so deep that even considering how short and neatly trimmed he kept them, they were bound to leave marks. Feel his toes curling in the girlie knee socks, a completely foreign feeling that just added to all the rest. Feel the noises rumble up out of his chest as Draco's breath puffed out hard from his nose and the wet sucking heat, relentless and just too fucking good to ignore, wound the coil of lust in his stomach tighter and tighter and tighter until it just _snapped_.

Harry'd told him once that he believed that every person in the world only got maybe a handful of really amazing orgasms in their life and, at the time, Ron had been more than fine to go along with the theory. And also maybe, in a horrible worried moment, try to count up how many really notable ones he'd already managed to waste while banging one out in the bath. But that had been before Grimmauld Place, before Draco, before Ron had actually ever _had sex_. And, really, as his orgasm barrelled through him, rushing and brilliant and _fuck, oh, oh_ , his own heated groans mixing with the sound of Draco moaning around his cock as he swallowed down every drop with a gusto usually reserved for things that didn't taste like come, he couldn't help but think that he was incredibly glad that Harry'd been so spectacularly wrong.

He tried to catch his breath as Draco pulled back and pushed himself up to his feet, leaning into Ron instantly and pressing desperate kisses along his jawline. His voice was rough but high for some reason, a whine and a pitch to it, and it took Ron a second to process that the _want to_ and _let me_ and _fuck you_ were meant to be connected. But the second it did, he couldn't help the shiver that ran through him at the image. He was definitely keeping the fucking skirt, it was obviously the most brilliant article of clothing ever to exist if it made Draco like _this_.

"Yeah, yes," He mumbled back, turning his head just enough to drag his mouth over Draco's cheek, the sounds dragging together on his lips, as he let go of the dresser for the first time since Draco'd shoved him up against it.

His fingers tingled and fumbled as he palmed Draco's cock through his trousers with one hand and unbuttoned with the other, and he couldn't help remembering the first time Draco'd sucked him off. Up against the wall in the toilet the day after Ron had finally gotten a _clue_ , all sloppy but hesitant with too much teeth and not enough rhythm. He'd stared up at Ron while he'd done it, trying to gauge what was good and what wasn't. He'd ended up coming in his trousers, apparently unable to not rub at himself the entire time, and had been so horrified and then so angry when Ron had laughed, cocky because _he_ hadn't when he was doing it, had he? But then not so angry when Ron had taken his own turn on his knees, opening up Draco's trousers and licking him clean, licking him hard, and then sucking him until he came again, shaking and gasping and clutching at the edge of the sink.

Draco groaned desperately, hips pushing forward, as Ron finally got his trousers undone and his cock out. His hands slipped up to Ron's neck, cupping his face and nudging at his mouth until they were kissing, the bitter taste of come on his tongue as it pushed into Ron's mouth making Ron moan and squeeze Draco's cock reflexively.

He felt drunk, drugged, as he stroked him, the hot press of cock against his palm seeming lazy and comfortable, and even though he knew Draco was fit to bursting, he couldn't seem to make himself move any faster. Draco's hips jerked erratically, urging him on, as his hands pressed hard against Ron's face and their tongues slipped together. It was moments like this that Ron liked the most, the moments where it was clear that Draco was absolutely fucking _head over_ for him.

Twisting his face away, he gasped deep and shaking, lust making it hard to breathe even as the pleasant buzz of afterglow made it hard to remember why he needed to. "Thought you wanted to fuck me?"

Draco moaned and his hips jerked forward, the tip of his cock rubbing wetly over the fabric of Ron's skirt. "I _do_."

He twisted his wrist, watching Draco's eyes close as his mouth fell open, his crooked bottom teeth still oddly fascinating even after all the years he'd become used to seeing them in just this context. "I think you're missing something, then."

Draco whined and bit his lip, pushing his hips forward once, twice, before stepping back and, holding his trousers up with one hand, stumbled over to the bedside table to hunt down the lube. The lube which Ron knew for a matter of fact was in the _other_ one on the _other_ side of the bed because he'd put it there. It was rather hilarious but Ron a feeling that actually laughing at him would probably just distract him and, really, Ron thought, Draco didn't need any more distraction. What he _needed_ was to calm down a bit.

He rubbed his hand through his hair and breathed out hard, turning around to look at himself in the big mirror over the dresser, taking in the rumpled shirt and skirt, the tie hanging loose down his chest, and the flushed, dazed expression on his face. Tilting his head to the side, he reached up and pulled on the tie, vaguely shocked by how easy he apparently was, a blowjob making even the bloody awfulest of situations seem like the greatest thing to ever happen to him. He frowned and shook his head, glancing up for a moment to watch Draco's reflection in the mirror as he swore and bounded over top of the bed to yank open the _other_ top drawer. And, out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help noticing just how much he might've looked like his mum in the way he frowned and the way his fringe hung over his forehead, the shape of his eyes and the kiss-bruised fullness of his lips.

Everyone said that he looked like his dad, always had, so it was odd and a little disconcerting and would probably, he had a feeling, start up some sort of bizarre identity crisis that could only be solved by fucking Draco into the mattress for at least a week straight. But, for now, just made him look away from his own face and over to where Draco was saying _ah-ha_ and slamming the drawer shut, lube in hand.

"Took you long enough." He said, planting his hands on the dresser top and looking over his shoulder.

Draco fumbled with the cap, shooting him a look that somehow mixed relief and frustration perfectly. "I don't even know how it _got_ over there."

He had to bite his lip to keep from snorting and reached down to haul his skirt up over his arse. His knickers were still pulled down in the front but the back was still mostly where it was meant to be. And when Draco looked down and sucked in a breath, Ron's face flushed but he thought that maybe he'd keep the knickers as well.

"Come on, then, unless you're just going to stand there all night."

Draco made a go at smirking -- the wide eyes rather giving him away though, in Ron's opinion -- as he finally managed to get the cap loose. "Oh, I've plans beyond standing."

He rolled his eyes and looked back at his face in the mirror, trying not to wince at the way his stomach lurched excitedly at the sight of his hands fisted up in the skirt with Draco staring at his knicker-covered arse and squeezing lube out onto his fingers.

Oh, yeah, definitely a crisis.

He breathed out, closing his eyes and letting his head tip forward, and listened to the liquid sounds, the intake of breath, as Draco stroked himself. Ron licked at his bottom lip and pictured it in his mind, he'd seen it so many times he didn't even have to try to imagine, he knew every move by heart -- the turn of his wrist and swipe of his thumb, the way he bit his lip, the way his chest sort of shuddered, _everything_. He shivered as slick fingers pushed down along the waistband of his knickers, down, down, down, not even pulling them down but _rolling_ them until they were just out of the way, just below the curve of his arse. His hands clenched in the skirt and, in a moment of strange clarity, realised that even if he'd ever imagined this sort of thing, which he hadn't, he never would have imagined _himself_ in this position.

Draco's breath was hot against the side of his neck, wet and heavy, as his fingertips slid up between Ron's thighs. A slow drag along the strip of skin behind his balls and then back and up, slipping circles around his entrance with just enough pressure to make his breath catch. And then _more_ , enough for the burn of friction to race up his spine as Draco's fingers pushed inside, enough for his caught breath to rattle up out of his mouth on a soft moan.

"Quit fucking about, would you?" He snapped, breathless and embarrassed at the sound, suddenly unsure if he just _always_ sounded like that or if it was only some skirt-related side effect. He looked up -- glared, really -- at Draco's reflection in the mirror.

Draco looked up from where he'd obviously been staring with rapt attention at his fingers pushing up into Ron's arse and blinked at him, utterly confused, before twisting his face up into a pout as what Ron had said finally slogged through the cloud of lust filling up his brain. "You're so impatient."

"No," Ron muttered, breathing out deeply and forcing himself to relax as he looked down at the dresser top. Draco's hand slipped to his hip, nudging him into a better position as Draco stepped in close behind him. "You just take too long."

" _No,_ " Draco bit out, pressing the head of his cock against Ron's hole and just _pushing_. Like that was all he had any intention of doing. "You're just. Impatient."

He ignored him, breathing out purposefully and biting his lip as he pushed back. Draco's breath hissed out hot against the side of Ron's neck as his cock slid up into him in one strong, smooth motion. The thick burn of friction making his eyes roll back, then squeeze shut, and the whole combination of sensations had his back arching involuntarily as he rocked forward. His hands fell loose from his skirt and he let it fall down to brush against the tops of his thighs as he reached out to catch himself against the dresser, sending all the stupid bottles on top rattling together loudly.

"Don't break my stuff." Draco gasped after a long moment, obviously unable to actually _speak_ until just then, one hand slipping around to Ron's stomach shakily and the other coming up to grip Ron's hip as he rolled his hips forward and rubbed his chin against Ron's shoulder.

"Fucking nancy." Ron managed to say even as his eyes squeezed shut again, pleasure shooting up his spine like fire, and pushed back for more.

"That's funny coming from the man with the knickers round his thighs and my cock up his arse." Draco laughed breathlessly, pulling back and then pushing in quick just to prove his point.

Ron had to bite his lip to keep from moaning outright, his hands clenched into fists and pressed hard into the wood as he tilted his head to the side, glaring at Draco's heavy-lidded smirk in the mirror. "But you're not doing anything with it, are you?"

"You want me to do something with it?" Draco asked, eyebrows furrowing as he pulled back, letting his cock slip almost all the way out before thrusting in hard, hard enough to make Ron's mouth fall open on a gasp. Then doing it again and again and-- "Because I _can_."

"What?" He gasped out, his voice going all breathy and ridiculous as Draco fucked him. "Make me fall asleep?"

Draco let out a frustrated noise, his face twisted up in concentration, eyebrows furrowing as he panted harshly. "Shut up."

He bit back a moan, rolling his shoulders and pushing back hard when Draco tilted his hips just right. "Can't hold up your end of the conversation?"

" _God_ ," Draco choked out, his forehead coming down to rest on Ron's shoulder as his hand pushed down his stomach, rubbing at his cock through his skirt. " _No,_ all right?"

He wanted to say something else then. Wanted to take as much pleasure out of getting one up on Draco as he could because he _just knew_ that Draco was never going to let him live this apparent _getting fucked while wearing a skirt_ fetish down. But he just couldn't seem to manage it. The thick wool rubbing roughly against the tip of his stiff cock as Draco palmed him and the absolutely _pounding_ rhythm of Draco's cock in his arse and the feel of Draco's hothot breath gasping out against his shoulder all making it impossible. And in a distant sort of way he reckoned that that said more about the situation than whatever witty, biting quip he couldn't come up with ever could.

He pushed back, hips moving counterpoint to Draco's, fucking himself as much as Draco was fucking him, and let his head fall forward. He bit his lip hard and stared down at Draco's broad, pale hand working against the dark wool of his skirt and let his hips roll back, just enough angle to it to pull a low groan from Draco's mouth.

It had always been like this between them. Even before they'd been shoved together by circumstance and teenage randiness, it had always been each of them giving absolutely everything they had to prove that they were better the better man. And even now, even after years of people referring to them like they were _one sodding entity_ , even after it was _more than clear_ that what they were was _better together_ rather than apart, it was still like that. Because it was fun and it kept them from getting any lazier than they already were and it just worked, had always worked, so why bother mucking about with it?

Ron shifted his weight, lifting one of his hands off the dresser and reaching down to cover Draco's with it, hold it tight and move it faster. Draco groaned again, mouthing frantically at his back through his shirt, wet and hot and perfect, teeth dragging and biting, tongue pressing down, feeling... _muffled_ by the fabric. Ron could hear himself breathing, harsh and desperate, in perfect concert with Draco's low, rough half-moans and the rocking scrap of the dresser against the floor and the skin-on-skin beat of Draco's hips slamming against his naked arse.

He moaned as Draco's hand slid up from his hip to his chest, pulling and tugging at his small, flat nipple through his shirt. The sensation seemed to go straight to his balls, making them feel hot and tight and ready and he wouldn't have been able to stop the incredulous moan from escaping his throat even if he'd tried. He squeezed tight on Draco's hand, rubbing fast as he moved his hips in sharp, involuntary jerks, his breath hitching in his chest.

"You're so, you're so -- _god_ , come on," Draco gasped, thrusting frantically and rubbing the side of his face against Ron's shoulder blade, his voice sounding strange and thick like he didn't even know he was speaking. "Come on, come in your pretty skirt for me, all over it, _godplease_."

Ron squeezed his eyes shut and swore, the desperate _need_ in Draco's voice coupled with the idea of coming in the skirt hitting him like a punch to the gut, his cock pulsing precome like he didn't already _know_. His knees locked, arse pressing back hard, just _taking it_ as Draco thrust into him, and he jerked his arm quick, curling his fingers around and between Draco's as he rubbed himself off. Broken open sounds slipping past his lips as his toes curled inside the girlie knee socks and everything went bright white like stars behind his eyelids, the warm wetness of his come spreading over and through the fabric of his skirt.

Draco made a choking sound, dragging the side of his face over Ron's shoulder as his hand on Ron's chest clenched into a tight fight, shirt twisted up inside as his knuckles pressed almost painfully hard right over Ron's heart. He leaned all his weight against Ron as Ron moaned and shook, pushing his twitching, pulsing cock deep and making little gasping sounds each time Ron's arse clenched down, his shoulders jerking convulsively as Ron's orgasm seemed to wring his own right out of him.

Ron sagged forward against the dresser as the pleasure subsided, panting and trying to catch his breath, his head feeling like it was full of jelly from getting off _twice_ in such close succession. Draco made a sound like _nnn_ behind him, his breath rattling up from his chest quick and shallow as he leaned completely against Ron, practically _boneless_ , and the side of Ron's mouth quirked up into a sort of smirk.

It seemed like ages before either of them bothered to move, Ron leaning on the dresser and Draco leaning on Ron, but then Draco took a deep breath and rubbed the side of his face against Ron's back, his arms squeezing Ron back against him for a moment. "So, that was basically the greatest sex, I think, ever."

" _Basically_." Ron laughed then didn't as Draco pulled back, cock slipping out, making them both hiss sharply. He pushed himself back up as Draco stepped away, stretching a bit and rolling his shoulders as he smiled lopsidedly, the fuzzy, sleepy buzz of contentment humming through his body.

"You're a mess." Draco mumbled behind him, his tongue clicking against his teeth in disapproval. Or, faux disapproval, really, as Ron knew that getting him all mussed and well fucked was only second to winding him up for a fight in Draco's heart.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head as Draco's hands slid under the tight line where his knickers were all bunched up at the tops of his thighs, pushing them down his legs until they slipped past his knees and down to the floor. Ron lifted one foot and then the other, shaking the flimsy fabric free and away as Draco straightened up behind him, pulling down and smoothing out Ron's skirt over his arse. Like somehow that would make it even remotely presentable. Like the smell of sex wasn't fucking permeating every stitch of the ruddy thing.

Draco stepped back, surveying him and brushing his hands together. "There, much better."

"Oh, _of course_." Ron said, nodding and not even bothering to disguise his amusement as he turned around to face him.

"Ugh. I've got to bathe. You should finish getting ready." Draco said, making a face and scratching at his stomach for a moment before shoving his trousers and pants down, the left leg getting caught on his foot for a moment and needing a shake to come loose. "We need to be going soon."

"Going? What going? I thought we'd decided that we weren't." Ron said and waved the side of his wrecked skirt in response when Draco just looked at him funny. "I'm not wearing this. I mean, I wasn't before but I'm certainly not now."

"Well, obviously not." Draco scoffed and pulled his shirt over his head, his hair all sweaty and sticking up at various hilarious angles as he gave Ron a look like it was _him_ with the idiot hair. "It's filthy."

"Well, what _am_ I meant to wear? Just regular clothes or something?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as Draco stepped around him, walking over to the wardrobe, pulling a box down from the top shelf and throwing it down onto the bed. A box like a box that clothes came in. A box like a box that clothes from costume shops came in. Ron blinked and stared down at the lid, his stomach writhing with a sudden feeling of _doom_. "Er. What's this, then?"

Draco fucking _beamed_ at him. "Your real costume."

"My real-- but--" Ron stared, understanding slowly dawning. He gasped, aghast, and pointed, waving his finger wildly and wishing it was his wand so that he could've hexed him or at least poked him in the eye. "You made me wear a skirt! You made me wear a skirt because of your stupid _dead plant_!"

" _Well_ ," Draco said, letting the word drag out like it was somehow suddenly so much longer than just four letters and practically _swaggering_ past Ron on his way out of the bedroom, naked as the day he was born and not even a hint of shame. "If that's what you'd like to think."


End file.
